Chapter Twenty-Six #2
“Yeah.” He pulls me against him again. “I know.”
I wrap my arms around his waist and close my eyes, and for a few seconds we just stand there holding each other.
Then he says exactly what’s been breaking my heart all day. “I wish they were here.”
My throat closes immediately.
Naturally, he’d be thinking about them too.
“I know, Mikey.”
“I’ve been thinking about them all fucking night.” His voice breaks again. “But when they handed her to me... fuck. I wanted Dad. I wanted to tell him to meet her. I wanted him to pat me on the back the way he used to and tell me I did good.”
Fuck.
I squeeze my eyes shut and hold him tighter.
“I know.”
“I really fucking wish they were here.”
There isn’t anything I can say that makes that less true, and Michael doesn’t need me manufacturing comfort for him. He knows I want them here too. I was sitting on Jackson’s lap crying about the exact same thing five minutes ago.
So, I just hold my little brother while he cries for our parents on the happiest night of his life.
After a while, I pull back and wipe both hands over his wet cheeks.
“They should be here,” I tell him. “I wish they were. More than anything. But I’m here.”
He nods.
“And you’re here. Blaire’s here. All these people we somehow collected are here.
” I gesture toward the waiting room, where almost everyone is openly watching us now and several aren't even bothering to hide their own tears.
Nosy, emotional fuckers. “And now you have this tiny little girl who has absolutely no idea what kind of family she just got born into.”
Michael laughs, loud and slightly manic.
“She’s so fucked.”
“Completely. I’m her aunt. I’m going to be so obnoxiously involved in her life that you’re eventually going to regret giving me access to her.”
“I already regret it.”
“You should. I’m going to spoil the shit out of her.”
“Blaire already said you’re not allowed to buy her a pony.”
My mouth falls open. “She’s been alive for five fucking minutes, and you people are already restricting my relationship with her?”
That finally gets a real laugh out of him, and I wipe another tear off his cheek.
“Come on. Come meet her.” He tips his head toward the hallway, then looks past me. “Jackson.”
Michael raises a hand and motions him over.
When I turn around, Jackson is already on his feet.
I don't know how long he's been standing there or how much of the conversation he heard, but one look at his face tells me enough. His eyes are red, and he doesn't even bother pretending otherwise as he walks over.
Michael pulls him into a hug the second he’s close enough, and it isn’t one of their usual quick, masculine hugs either.
Michael holds on. Jackson holds on right back, one hand gripping the back of his neck while the other clamps around his shoulder.
Neither of them says much. Michael starts crying again, Jackson mutters something into his shoulder that I can’t hear, and by the time they separate, both of them are wiping at their faces.
So we’re all just crying tonight. Personal growth everywhere.
Michael leads us through the doors and down the hallway, talking as we walk, telling us everything went well and Blaire is exhausted but doing great. I hear him, but my stomach is fluttering so badly that half of what he says is probably bouncing right back out of my brain.
I’m about to meet my niece.
My niece.
Michael stops outside a room and pushes the door open.
Blaire is sitting up in bed when we walk in, and somehow, impossibly, she looks beautiful. Her cheeks are flushed like she just took a short sprint, but otherwise she looks almost exactly like she did when we left the pizza place.
Her hair isn’t even fucked up.
I stare at her.
Only Blaire could give birth and come out of it looking mildly inconvenienced.
Then my eyes drop to the tiny bundle tucked against her chest, and every smart-ass thought in my head disappears so fast it’s almost offensive.
There she is.
Jaxon Rose Sullivan.
I stop just inside the doorway so abruptly that Jackson walks straight into my back because I have forgotten how legs work.
“Shit. Sorry,” he murmurs, his hands settling on my hips to steady me.
Blaire looks up at us, and her tired smile grows.
Jackson recovers before I do. “Look at you, Bee. Beautiful as ever.”
He takes the words right out of my mouth.
Blaire rolls her eyes, but I can see how pleased she is. “Clearly, this was light work.”
“Obviously,” Jackson says. “Barely broke a sweat, I bet.”
“Exactly.”
Michael makes a noise from behind us. “Don’t encourage her.”
Blaire looks at him. “Are you going to tell them I wasn’t amazing?”
“Nope.”
“Smart man.”
His whole face softens when he looks at her, and I watch the two of them for a second because Michael looks like he can’t decide whether to stare at his wife or his daughter for the rest of his life.
That nearly starts me crying again, which at this point is less an emotional response and more my body’s default setting.
Then Blaire turns back to me.
“Rose?”
“Yeah?”
Her eyes drop to the baby in her arms before coming back to mine. “You want to take her first?”